


The Things We Do For Love

by Mandergee



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Philinda Secret Santa, SO MUCH FLUFF, fluffy fluff fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 22:30:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2828336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mandergee/pseuds/Mandergee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Melinda signed up for the dance elective at the Academy, Phil Coulson never quite knew why...until they came home from Christmas break and it all came tumbling out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Things We Do For Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elle_you_oh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elle_you_oh/gifts).



The smell of cake baking always reminded him of Melinda, brought him back to the first time he'd taken her home to meet his mother and they'd walked in to the smell of vanilla filling the house he'd grown up in. He'd called to let her know they were coming, and in the time it had taken for them to get there she'd managed to whip up a batch of his favorite cupcakes, tiny little decorated pieces that declared her motherly affections in mounds of whipped chocolate frosting and multicolored sprinkles. Melinda hadn't said a word, let herself be folded into a warm hug as his Juliette Coulson had fawned over her 'new daughter-in-law' and ushered them into a kitchen still cloudy with flour as she swiped at the kitchen table with moist paper towels and filled tall glasses with milk.

He hadn't known that chocolate was his new fiancee's favorite thing, and as he'd watched Melinda clean the lingering smudges of frosting from her fingertips with gentle swipes of her tongue he wondered how much more there was he'd be learning over their lifetime together.

“Do you remember-” Her finger pressed firmly against his lips and he frowned, as Melinda steered their bodies to the left and ignored his disgruntled expression.

“If you don't concentrate, Professor Gamage is going to make us stay late- _again_. And I didn't sign up for dance elective just to goof around, Phil.”

“Why did you sign up?” His fingers brushed over the sparkling ring on her finger and he thought about his mother again, how she'd gone for the box of memories she'd kept of his father and pulled out the ring he'd given her when  _they'd_ gotten engaged. There was a story behind it, she'd once told him, and even though she hadn't told it again he could remember the talk of a park bench and rose bushes, his father kneeling to ask the woman he loved to spend the rest of her life with him. When he'd proposed to Melinda it hadn't been the same, the streetlights on campus flickering in the heat of a summer storm and the two of them huddled in the doorway to the Academy gym waiting for the right moment to dodge the fat, warm raindrops. She'd kissed him in an impulsive way that left him breathless and his heart pounding, and Phil had taken her hand in his to ask if she'd be the one to kiss him like that every day- forever.

They stepped sideways again, and back, his eyes leaving hers to cut across the room and meet the stern expression that was a constant companion to Professor Gamage's sharp cheekbones and pointed chin. When Phil had added the course to his workload he'd done it at the suggestion of his mother, thought of her smile when she'd told him how she'd danced with his father at their own wedding and no one else had remembered the steps quite like he did. But Melinda hadn't given him her reasons, had shown up on the first day with her gym bag slung over one shoulder and no sign of anything on her face other than contempt for the idea of dancing among the perky, enthusiastic girls that seemed to populate the tiny studio in droves. 

“Your mother told me you liked to dance with her when you were little- and I thought it would be nice.” Her response threw him off rhythm and he paused when he should have turned, blinked as Melinda let go of his hand and he tumbled to the floor in a graceless flailing of limbs. “But this is ridiculous. I _don't dance_.”

“Melinda, hold on-” She fled, left him sprawled out on the polished wood with confusion freezing him in place as Natasha and her partner swung by, the former glancing curiously down at him even as the latter tried his best to avoid stepping on toes hidden by practical black flats. Phil ignored the stares and scrambled to his feet, pushed past the couples practicing and raced down the empty corridor to catch up with his own partner, her own face a cloud of frustration even as she fought to control the breath that heaved from her lungs in short and steady gasps. “Hey. Wait a second. If you didn't  _want_ to sign up...then why _did_ you?”  


“Your mother. That's why.” She paused, inhaled sharply as he waited patiently, watched her toy with the ring that seemed to weigh down her finger even as her thoughts seemed simultaneously to weigh so heavy on her mind. “Did you know that she took dance lessons when she got married?”

“Yeah.”

“I wanted her to _like_ me.” The declaration was so uncharacteristic of Melinda that Phil wasn't sure how to answer, and after a moment of silence she reached out to take his hand. “I know she _does_ \- but I didn't really know how she was going to react to our getting married when she hadn't even  _met_ me yet. And when she told me that story..I just wanted to do something that would mean a lot to her. I wanted her to know that you mean as much to me as your father meant to her.”

“But you hate it.”

“I really do.” She smiled then, and he wanted nothing more than to lean forward and kiss her until they were both lightheaded, like the kiss she'd given him Christmas morning when she'd opened her gift. Her own childhood Christmases were something she'd never wanted to talk about, and when they'd started seeing each other the one certainty he'd had was that he knew he'd do something for her that would make up for the memories she hadn't made before. Nothing had seemed right, but when he'd wrapped the replica of Peggy Carter's S.S.R badge he hadn't imagined a reaction quite like the one he'd received. 

“You don't have to keep taking the course just for her- or me,” He added. “It's enough to know you wanted to, and I'm sure you're going to remember the steps if you  _do_ want to dance at our wedding.”

“If I don't, you'll have my back.” Melinda stepped in to rest her forehead against his, glancing sideways at the door to the tiny studio and the sounds of many feet pounding against the floor. “You should get back inside- sounds like they're covering something different.”

“I'm fine right here.” Phil closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of her hair- vanilla, like the cupcakes they'd had on the first Christmas break he knew he would never forget. “I love you, Melinda May.”

“I love you too, Phil. I always will.”  



End file.
